and all the people are so
kind and frank."

Mademoiselle Kramer suddenly smiled and replied:

"My dear child--"

"Don't call me 'child'! I'm not a child! I'm a mother!"

"But here, in the great world, you are only a child. A court is a
strange place. Some go hunting, others go fishing; one builds, another
paints; one studies a _role_, another a piece of music; a dancer learns
a new step, an author writes a new book. Every one in the land is doing
something,--cooking or baking, drilling or practicing, writing,
painting, or dancing--simply in order that the king and queen may be
entertained."

"I understand you," said Walpurga, and Mademoiselle Kramer continued:

"My family has been in the service of the court for sixteen
generations";--six would have been the right number, but sixteen
sounded so much better;--"my father is the governor of the summer
palace, and I was born there. I know all about the court, and can teach
you a great deal."

"And I'll be glad to learn," interposed Walpurga.

"Do you imagine that every one is kindly disposed toward you? Take my
word for it, a palace contains people of all sorts, good and bad. All
the vices abound in such a place. And there are many other matters of
which you have no idea and of which you will, I trust, ever remain
ignorant. But all you meet are wondrous polite. Try to remain just as
you now are, and, when you leave the palace, let it be as the same
Walpurga you were when you came here."

Walpurga stared at her in surprise. Who could change her?

Word came that the queen was awake and desired Walpurga to bring the
crown prince to her.

Accompanied by Doctor Gunther, Mademoiselle Kramer and two
waiting-women, she proceeded to the queen's bedchamber. The queen lay
there, calm and beautiful, and, with a smile of greeting, turned her
face toward those who had entered. The curtains had been partially
drawn aside and a broad, slanting ray of light shone into the
apartment, which seemed still more peaceful than during the breathless
silence of the previous night.

"Good-morning!" said the queen, with a voice full of feeling. "Let me
have my child!" She looked down at the babe that rested in her arms and
then, without noticing any one in the room, lifted her glance on high
and faintly murmured:

"This is the first time I behold my child in the daylight!"

All were silent; it seemed as if there was naught in the apartment
except the broad slanting ray of light that